


Unnecessarily Emotional

by mybelovedcheshire



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:44:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybelovedcheshire/pseuds/mybelovedcheshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade has a date -- something he hasn't been on in a while, and he's nervous about it. His best friend Sally helps him deal with his concerns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unnecessarily Emotional

“Wanna grab take-away later?” Sally asked, casually leaning against the door to Greg’s office. “I’ve got a movie I think you’ll like.” 

Greg looked up from his desk. “Yeah? What movie?” 

“Pride and Prejudice.” 

There were no words to adequately describe the stony lack of amusement in his expression. “I can’t anyway,” he answered, after a long silence. 

“Why not? You know you can’t escape this. It’s going to happen whether you want to see it or not.” 

Greg fidgeted with the cap on his pen, smiling slightly. “First of all, that’s a lie.” 

It wasn’t. Greg made Sally sit through countless hours of football -- both on the telly, and at the field, and she made him watch unnecessarily sentimental movies that gave him headaches. It was the exact sort of trade to be expected from best mates. 

“And second... I have a date tonight.” 

There was a slight pause while Sally struggled to contain her delight. “Yeah? Who with? Is he cute?” 

And while Greg was fully prepared for a barrage of questions, he wasn’t exactly sure what to tell her. He tried to keep his personal life out of the office as much as possible. Emphasis on tried, of course, because all of that went spiralling out the window when he agreed to go to dinner with a co-worker. He nodded. “Shut the door, will you?” He asked quietly, pushing his paperwork aside.

Sally beamed as she quickly slipped into his office. The walls might have been glass -- but they were nearly soundproof, for which he was always grateful. 

He took a slow breath before answering. “It’s Dimmock.” 

Sally let out a small squeal of delight. She’d had her fingers crossed under her leg the entire time, and wishful thinking hadn’t let her down. “I knew it! I knew something was up, I was just talking to Iain-” She stopped abruptly when she noticed how confused he was. “Don’t. I‘m on my fifth cup of coffee.” 

Greg shook his head, not even trying to hide his judgemental expression. But judgement quickly shifted to stoicism, and stoicism to concern as he considered how long it had been since he’d been on a real date. Sally watched the change with a smile. 

“You should wear that blue tie. The one I got you for Christmas.” 

He looked up, horrified. “I have to wear a tie?” 

Sally snorted. “Where are you going? Dinner and a movie?”

Greg buried his face in his hands, and Sally -- as generous and caring as she was towards her friends, struggled not to laugh. 

“Honestly, Greg... you could take him to watch a stupid Arsenals match, and he’d still have fun.” 

“Call them stupid again, and I’m putting you on Traffic indefinitely,” Greg threatened through his fingers. 

Sally pulled her chair closer to his desk and leaned back, making herself comfortable. “What were you planning on doing, then?” 

“Chip shop and a walk by the Thames.” 

“You’re joking.” 

He didn’t answer.

Sally bit her lip, considering how best to reassure him that it really didn’t matter where they went -- Iain would be flabbergasted and grateful to go out with him, even just the once. Greg, of course, wouldn’t understand that particular concept at all. The interns had been calling him ‘DI Silver Fox’ for months, and he still didn’t know what it meant.

“What time are you meeting?”

“Eight o’clock.”

“Where?” She asked, pulling out her phone. 

“At the chip shop,” Greg answered, a note of irritation in his tone as he rubbed his eyes. “What are you doing?” He was inherently suspicious of technology -- especially mobiles with cameras in them. 

“Checking movie listings, but it’s all crap.” 

“Wait, you can do that from your--” Sally shushed him and moved the phone to her ear. 

“Yeah, hi. I’d like a reservation for two, please.” Greg could hear a tinny, posh voice on the other end. “Half past eight, if you can. Put it under Lestrade.” 

“What are you--” Sally waved her hand to shut him up again. 

“Yeah, that’s R-A-D-E. First name’s Greg. Great, thanks.” Greg didn’t get a chance to protest again before she dropped the phone back into her lap. “You’re going to Keating, it’s a restaurant off Bedford Street. I dragged you there once, and you said you liked their sirloin.”

Greg stared. 

“There’s a little coffee shop just across the street. You can go there after, grab a cup to go, and then head down to the river for your Thames walk. Knowing you, you’ll actually enjoy that part.”

“Sally...”

“And yeah,” she finished, smiling. “The blue tie.”

He honestly didn’t know what to say. But with Sally, it really didn’t matter -- he didn’t have to say anything at all. They’d know each other long enough that a single glance or a long pause carried just as much weight. “Thank you,” he added quietly.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m more familiar with first dates than you are.”

“Yeah? Wanna go on this one for me?”

She laughed. “I have coffee with Iain every week. It’s your turn.”

“Dinner and coffee.”

“Dinner and coffee,” Sally repeated. “You’ll be fine. It’s just like driving. Only you know this car, so you don’t have to try and get a feel for how it handles. You know what his interests are. And you’ve got the same job. There’s loads of stuff to talk about.”

“I know, I know. I’m not worried about that. It’s just...” He trailed off. 

Sally wanted to let him finish -- to hear what he had to say about it. He was nervous, and it was adorable. Greg rarely -- if ever -- got worked up about anything that didn’t involve his job, music or football, so seeing him a little off his game was endearing. And more than that -- it was strangely out of character. 

It took her a moment, but she caught on. “You fancy him, don’t you?”

They didn’t talk about his personal life very often. They talked about hers frequently -- more than necessary, and inevitably more than he wanted to hear, but he put up with it because he cared about her. She wanted to know more about him, and she did pressure him for details -- but she respected his privacy on the rare occasions that he put his foot down. Needless to say, it felt strange to even ask him such a question.

“No,” he corrected. Sally looked disbelieving. “He’s...yeah, I do, I guess. He’s a nice guy.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And what’s on your mind, Greg? There’s something you’re not telling me.”

He didn’t answer for a moment. Sally watched him silently. He was staring off into space, but she knew his mind was on the empty desk just out of sight of his office. “He’s very young,” Greg finally replied.

She hadn’t been expecting that, but she smiled all the same. “This coming from a man who turns into a six year old when his team wins a game?”

Greg snorted, and straightened up, glancing at the banner proudly displayed on his wall. “Football doesn’t count.”

“Of course it bloody counts, you child. There’s a football under your desk, for God’s sake. You’re hardly a shining example of adulthood.”

“Oh, shut it. You’re just mad because you have to come watch me play this week-end.”

“I do not. I have plans.”

“Liar.”

Sally smirked. “Take your boyfriend.”

“We’re not-” Greg bit his tongue and fumed silently. But he was grateful nonetheless. He was still a tiny bit nervous -- it had been quite some time since he’d been on a first date, after all -- but he felt like a significant weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Out,” he growled, pulling the paperwork back to the middle of his desk. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sally stood up. “You’re lucky I’m a mature and responsible adult, or I might’ve started singing that rhyme about kissing in trees.”

“Go do your job, Sally.”

Sally paused with her hand on the door and glanced back at him, grinning wickedly. “Only if texting you about the rest of what you’re going to wear tonight counts as work.” Snickering, she quickly left his office, leaving him with his face buried in his hand yet again.


End file.
